


Head between my thighs, I found a saviour

by orphan_account



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: A lot of sex, AU, Agnostic Connor, Alana centric, Cathlocism, Catholic Alana, Catholic Zoe, Cunnilingus, Everybody Lives/Nobody Dies, F/F, Fingering, Galaxy Gals, Jewish Evan, Jewish Jared, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Religious Guilt, Smut, Strap-Ons, discussion of sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-29
Updated: 2017-09-29
Packaged: 2019-01-06 20:16:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,311
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12218154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: At first, Alana thinks Zoe is the same as the rest of them.And, at first, she is.





	Head between my thighs, I found a saviour

**Author's Note:**

> i'm drunk, there's no Zolana in this goddamn fandom, thank you Halsey

Alana Beck is a good girl. Alana Beck has a mother and a father, and Alana Beck goes to church every Sunday, and goes to confession when she need to. Alana Beck gets straight A's, and Alana Beck tutors kids who need it.

Alana Beck wouldn't get drunk at a party and have sex with someone on a sink.

Alana Beck would never.

And no one thinks so, anyway, because no one ever finds out. It's between her and the girl she fingered on a sink, drunk on tequila.

If her parents, or he peers found out that she had done something like that, they'd never believe it.

Except, well, it's a big town.

Alana has all the time in the world to experiment, and as many willing, curious, bodies as she could hope for, all promising to keep their mouths shut, after, walking funny, with flushed cheeks and bitten lips.

* * *

 

Alana ends up going to college in a city. Alana's parents have enough money to get her an apartment without her having to share it. So, Alana goes to class, and goes to the library to study, and stays up all night at her neat desk and gets her work done.

She makes detours.

She goes to bars and clubs and tries to find her place.

And she finds she knows nothing.

* * *

 

Alana discovered masturbation because of the Bible, which is pretty ironic, considering her supposed devout Catholicism.

She sat on her bed, age thirteen, reached under her skirt, and hesitantly pressed her middle and index finger to her underwear.

At first she was scared. What had the passage said? That any person who engaged in such an act was bound for hell.

Alana shook it out of her head, and pressed again.

She can't recollect how long it took her - too long, she reflects, years later - but eventually she reaches that great absolution that the passage had conveniently forgot to mention.

Alana decided she'd risk it.

* * *

 

After that, the next discovery was girl's.

The Bible said lust, in any form was a sin, but lust for a woman, while also being a woman was twice as bad.

She was always told that she'd marry a man.

Well, at fifteen, she'd had enough of that, and started pulling girls aside during Sunday School.

They were all sweet girls. Nice girls with sugary smiles and pink lips that shaped the gentlest, softest sounds, and whispered the best requests. All daughters of influential people, rich people, who let her touch them until they shivered and made pretty noises.

They never offered to return the favour.

* * *

 

At twenty-two, going to gay clubs, and bars with girls her age, alone, in booths, Alana finds she knows nothing.

The girls in the city are different from the pastors daughters she used to finger against cubicle doors. They don't plead for her to touch them, they demand it. They describe themselves with long words that don't make sense in her head, besides her default Catholicism, which tells her that they're all going to hell, same as her.

Alana doesn't know quite what to make of that.

They don't like her too much when she refuses to define herself like that.

They are loud. Of course, here, in their private homes, they have no reason, nor hold any desire to be quiet. They want more than fingers. They want tongues and teeth and toys and things she's never heard of before.

Alana's overwhelmed.

They all blur together, names and faces being forgotten too soon after.

At first, Alana thinks Zoe is the same as the rest of them.

And, at first, she is.

She's flirty, obviously unashamed of being herself, and behaves like she's constantly on a clock.

She has indigo streaks in her hair, faded blue adjoining it, and when she's drunk beyond belief, she draws all over her clothes in any sharpie she can find in her purse. And Alana's seen it tipped out on the floor at one too many parties, and knows she basically keeps a pencil case's worth in there.

Zoe likes getting drunk on vodka, while Alana prefers tequila.

A girl called Dana Pieretti, who has racks of expensive wine at her house and ties Alana's hands to the headboard, says they're both vile drinks. She spends the hours after fucking Alana, with a vibrator, feeding her different wines, and Alana pretends she knows the difference.

(Turns out, the Pastor's daughters weren't just the girls Alana could get her hands on. Alana has expensive taste.)

When they first met, Zoe challenged her to a drinking contest, and Alana ended up holding her hair back when she vomited in the toilet of the bar.

Zoe doesn't seem to care who Alana was before college, before everything.

Alana kind of appreciates that, after hearing enough lists from Zoe's friends, lists of how many people they've fucked.

Alana almost feels embarrassed.

* * *

 

The first time it happens, Alana's hungover, and she's thanking God that she got all her assessment done, because she'd literally die if she had anything to do, today.

And she's trying to sleep, but her phone keeps buzzing against the mattress.

Alana opens Zoe's texts, and sends her a message, without reading the messages about Alana maybe proofreading her essay.

Alana's text reads, simply _put up or shut up._

And she flops back on the bed, dropping her phone off the side of the bed.

Fifteen minutes later someone's banging at her front door.

Alana stumbles out into the entryway, and scowls at Zoe, standing in her doorway, sopping wet from the rain outside.

"What are you doing here?" Alana asks.

"You invited me." Zoe responds. "Can I borrow a towel? I'll be right out."

Zoe walks past her, and into the bathroom and Alana blinks at her retreating figure, confused. She exits the bathroom, having stripped off a few layers and towelling off he hair.

"Zoe." Alana says in a hard voice.

"It's fine, I'll be right there." Zoe insists, and strips off her hoodie, hair hanging stringy and damp around her pale face.

"What are you doing here." She repeats.

"You told me to come over."

Alana snorts, she did nothing of the sort, and then remembers her angry message.

"I'll make it quick, promise, and after I've you off, could you look at my essay?"

Alana doesn't really have anything to say to that.

So she lets Zoe perch her on the edge of the bed and bury her face in her cunt.

* * *

 

And a few days later, there's a text, inviting Alana over to Zoe's house, requesting Alana to proofread her final copy before she sends it off.

And Alana, dutiful as always, rides across the city to Zoe's apartment, and walks in without knocking, the way Zoe said was fine. Said she was used to it.

Zoe looks relieved when she walks in.

"Oh thank god." And she's sounds like she's taken the first breath of air in hours. "Here, just sit down here, take off your pants, I promise it'll be quick."

Zoe starts moving all of her notes off of the bed, and Alana stands, numbly, in the doorway. "Wait, I thought I was here for the essay?" She says.

"You are, but first I need to- you have to- can I please- I'm sorry, just-"

"Fine." Alana huffs and drops her bag on the floor their, already stripping out of her cardigan.

* * *

 

Zoe's apartment is so weird.

Alana tries to blame it on conflicting aesthetics. There's potted plants and candles, and posters and multicoloured throw blankets and magazines and poetry books scattered on every surface.

Alana could not be more confused by a person.

* * *

 

The thing about the way Zoe fucks, she never asks for anything in return. Alana is reminded of the early stages of her sexual encounters, when there'd be no relief for he, and Alana thought it was maybe Gods punishment for lusting after girls.

But Zoe gets her off, and gives her no time to recover before she's pressing her fingers against Alana's clit again, and pushing her off the deep end again, so quickly that Alana can barely differentiate between the orgasms.

* * *

 

It becomes routine. It's not a trade, but Zoe's usually got something she needs from Alana that she's willing to get her off for.

Proofread an essay or help her out with understanding a book or anything, really. And she either leaves too quickly or goes straight to business too quickly, afterwards. Alana never has time to even offer.

Zoe does something wonderful with her tongue, digs her nails into Alana's thighs and Alana comes with a moan and a hand in Zoe's hair.

And she props her head up on Alana's hip. "Now, about that book report."

Alana's stumped, and a little frustrated.

* * *

 

"Maybe she's abstaining." Jared suggests over lunch.

"Right. Mhm. Abstaining from getting off." Alana mock-agrees, and pushes her fork around in her Greek salad. "But not putting her face in my pussy. Grow up, Jared, that's not how abstinence works. I thought you'd know that."

He scowls and takes another bite of his wrap. "One, I'm Jewish, and two, I'm kinda insulted."

"There's gotta be something." Alana continues, ignoring his statement. "She waits a minute or two and then pulls her books out and asks me to help her revise for a test."

"Maybe she gets off to academia. Who knows, maybe she gets turned on by Catcher In The Rye." Jared's eyes widen. "Ooh, maybe she gets turned on by the way you talk about Catcher In The Rye."

"If that was what was happening, I have a feeling she would have included me in this whole Verbal-Catcher-In-The-Rye-Fetish thing." She deadpans and spears an olive on her fork.

"No, you're right, that's way too convoluted." Jared agrees, but he's grinning.

Evan walks over and sits himself down beside them, "What are we talking about?"

"Catcher In The Rye." Jared supplies, grinning cheekily. Alana flips him the bird.

Evan ignores their interaction, obviously sensing subtext and not wanting to know details. "I haven't read it."

"Blasphemy." Jared says, in the most monotone voice ever.

"Hey, what do you know about Zoe Murphy?" Alana interrupts. Jared had said that Evan knew Zoe before he did, and he went through most of his schooling career with Evan.

"Plenty, why?" Evan says, and it seems much too casual, if the blush in his cheeks is anything to go by.

"What do you know about the people she fucks?" He goes redder at this, and, now, even Jared looks intrigued.

"Well, actually, a lot." He admits, and Alana squints at him. "Why?"

"She won't let me get her off." Alana says.

"Oof." He does look sorry for her. Which feels condescending, but she knows Evan, so she knows he's trying to be anything but that. "Uh, well, I don't know too much about that."

"Are you saying what I think you're saying?" Jared says, leaning forward. Alana pushes him back. Evan bites his lip.

"There isn't a delicate way to phrase this." Evan says, and twists his fingers together. His sandwich sits, forgotten on the table. Alana feels slightly bad that she's interrupting his lunch.

"Nothing about this conversation is delicate." Jared says, voice monotone, once again. Alana elbows him.

"Zoe and I - gosh, I really don't know how to say this - we slept together. A lot." Evan looks up at Alana and sees something she obviously didn't mean for him to see. "But, not romantically. I think she just needed to blow off steam."

"Geez." Jared looks impressed. Like he didn't think that Evan could ever have sex, with anyone. "Why did you never tell me about that?"

The look on Evan's face says everything. "I didn't want to."

Jared slams a hand to his chest and mock-faints. "Cold blooded, Evan. I am truly wounded."

"How long ago was that?" Alana can't help asking.

Evan begins to unwrap his 7/11 tuna sandwich as he speaks. "Well, she broke it off about six months ago. I can't think why she wouldn't want you to reciprocate. But, if she doesn't want you to touch her, or whatever, you should respect her wishes. It's all about consent."

Alana hums her agreement and stuffs a large piece of lettuce in her mouth to stop from saying something dumb.

* * *

 

So, the next time, Zoe's revising for a test, and has her hand in Alana's jeans, Alana slowly reaches down, and presses the tips of her fingers up between Zoe's legs.

And just like that, something changes.

Zoe pulls away and Alana meets her eyes, and there is no fear, no revulsion in her eyes.

Alana follows her down.

For the first time in her life, she's almost relieved to slide her hand into someone else's underwear.

It's the first time she sees Zoe come, and she doesn't stop there, just keeps moving against Zoe, and there's a sparkle in he r eye that notices she picked that up, and appreciates it.

Alana's relieved.

* * *

Zoe never gives an explanation.

But she gets more enthusiastic about their sex life.

There's suddenly more of a sex life in whatever they have going.

Was this like what she and Evan had had? Did he feel tired by the boundless libido Zoe seemed to retain? Did Evan fuck her the way Alana did when Zoe begged her to fuck her all proper like.

("With my fingers?"

"No. With a dildo. C'mon.")

(So Alana went and bought a dildo, and spent the entire transaction imagining exactly how damned she was.)

Did Evan ever feel lost in the moment, just staring at her?

Did he ever feel fucked up, not knowing how he'd ended up where he was, and not sure whether he wanted it to stop?

She kinda starts to feel jealous.

* * *

 

Turns out, she has no reason to feel jealous.

"Does this mean that you've officially fucked both the Murphy's?" Alana seems to wake up at this question. She pulls her head up from where it was resting on her folded arms, and blinks blearily at Evan and Jared.

Jared looks giddy, Evan looks red.

"Wait, both the Murphy's?" Alana repeats. "What do you mean both the Murphy's?"

They're having breakfast at a café not far from her apartment, and Alana's still not entirely awake, so, she guesses, Jared forgives her for that. He gives her a delighted look. "You're telling me that you've never met Connor?" The way he says the name makes Evan flinch, minutely.

"That's exactly what I'm telling you." She deadpans, and a waitress drops off their respective coffees and Evan's chai tea.

There's a brief silence as they all drink a good third of their cups. "Well," Jared begins, sitting back in his chair, expression more relaxed, "Connor is Zoe's brother, and our dear Evan Hansen has apparently been getting freaky with him."

Evan scowls. "Jared, do you have to phrase it like that?" He asks, but it's in that defeated tone that says even if Jared could possibly ever want to to phrase it differently, Evan knows he wouldn't. They have a strange friendship, Alana decides.

"How would you like me to phrase it?" Jared says, arms behind his head. "Doing the horizontal tango?"

"Jared!" Evan cries, throwing his hands up in the air.

Alana phases back out, head in her arms.

* * *

 

She doesn't have to wait long to officially meet the other Murphy sibling.

Apparently the conflicting aesthetic's theory Alana had going on Zoe's apartment was wrong, and her brother lives with her.

This only occurs when Alana is busy fucking Zoe on her new strap-on, on the living room couch (which Alana didn't know was a shared couch) and the front door opens.

They both freeze.

Connor, Zoe's brother stomps into the house, hangs his coat on the rack in the entryway, and storms right past them, eyes glued to his phone screen.

His bedroom door slams closed.

Alana meets Zoe's eyes and Zoe bursts into laughter. Alana sighs, guessing the mood is dead, and going to pull out, but Zoe stops her.

"Where are you going?" She asks, and bucks her hips.

"Your brother just got home." Alana replies, but resumes thrusting.

"Yeah. Whatever. He usually hides out in his room after classes, anyway. And the chances of him coming out to get snacks is slim, considering he restocked them two days ago."

Alana nods in understanding, and rubs her fingers against Zoe's clit, hoping to finish her and end the chance of the brother that Alana's never met before.

Why Sh granted, because only a few moments later, Zoe is shuddering into her, and digging her uneven nails into Alana's shoulders.

Alana gives her a minute to recover, then pulls out, slowly, and dumps the strap-on on the rug.

"Uh, you're cleaning that." Zoe says, reclining on the couch, her thighs a mess of lube and come. She gestures to the strap-on.

Alana crosses her arms and huffs. "You didn't tell me that your brother would walk in on us fucking. I think you're cleaning it." She says, in reply.

Zoe makes an unimpressed face. "Really?"

"Yeah." Alana says, forcefully, and Zoe gives her that grin that is almost uncannily like Jared's 'kinky' face.

"Zoe? You home? The door was unlocked, so I'm assuming you are!" Calls Connor, his voice muffled from behind his door.

"I'm home!" Zoe calls back. "Don't come out; I'm having sex on the couch!"

"You're paying the dry cleaners!" Alana is honestly shocked at how amused he sounds. "I'm not sitting on that until it's clean!"

"Whatever, I'll get dressed and then you can meet my girlfriend!"

Girlfriend.

Despite having fingered pretty much every girl at her church as a teenager, Alana has never been able to truly call someone her girlfriend.

So. That's a little scary. That's uncharted territory.

Alana's not sure what to do.

Zoe hands her her clothes, and tells her to get dressed, because she's going to meet Connor.

* * *

 

The first thing she does upon meeting Zoe's brother, fully dressed, is apologise. "I swear I didn't know that there was someone else living here. If I did, I wouldn't have let her convince me to do it on the couch."

Connor looks amused and sweeps his hair out of his face. "It's fine. God knows I've done worse."

"Connor," Zoe groans and shoves him, "none of us want to hear about your sexcapades."

"I'm really sorry." Alana repeats.

"Stop apologising." Connor says, lightly. "You're as bad as Evan."

"Is it true you're fucking Evan Hansen?" Zoe asks and Connor gives her a look like he honestly can't believe she said anything at all.

He picks up an apple and sets it down on the counter, beginning to dig through the drawers. "I don't think that's your business."

"He's a good lay, though, right?" Zoe says, and sits herself on the counter.

Connor stand back up with an apple corer. "He is."

"Sweet. I knew getting him drunk and helping him stalk your Facebook was a good idea."

"You did that?"

"Yep." Alana takes another apple from the bowl, and bites into it tentatively. Zoe bends down and kisses her on the cheek. "And now I have an awesome girlfriend and my brother is finally getting some. This is the dream."

* * *

 

"You're okay that I called you my girlfriend right?" Zoe asks, as Alana goes to leave.

Alana considers this. "Am I your girlfriend?"

"Only if you want to be." Zoe says, and for the first time since Alana meant her, she looks vulnerable. Her fingers tangle with Alana's.

"Cool." The vulnerable expression is gradually replaced with a smile. "My girlfriend, Zoe Murphy."

"Yep." Zoe kisses her goodbye.

(Alana asked how two college students could afford such a nice apartment. Turns out, Alana does have expensive taste.)


End file.
